Undead American in Ontario

Winter comes to Ottawa, Ontario. Just another day for me. I look out the window from my apartment in the neighborhood of Vanier, right across from the Park. There's snow everywhere. Hard to believe that it was bitterly cold yet dazzlingly bright yesterday. I get up, and walk from the kitchen to make myself a cup of coffee. Another year has gone by, and I'm still no closer to mastering the Curse, and to be honest I don't really give a damn. Too much has happened since my life was irrevocably changed. I sip my coffee, and turn on my laptop. I browse through Yahoo news, followed by MSN and finally Facebook. The Ottawa Senators professional hockey team are having a lousy season after a promising start by the young bucks they recently hired. CNN is still going on about the surprising aftermath of the European-supported Arab Spring and the suddenly dimmer prospects for democracy, women's rights and secular leadership in the Middle East. Fox News still rages on and on about Obama, Hermann McCain and Texas Governor Rick Perry. Oh, and an asteroid narrowly missed the earth. I kind of wished it hadn't. Maybe I would have been freed from the Curse. Maybe. Welcome to my life.

I open my fridge and look inside. It's basically empty because I haven't been to Lob Laws Supermarket in ages. My stomach grumbles, and I grab some frozen meat. I let it thaw in a frying pan on the stove for five minutes, then I eat it raw. Six pounds of raw goat meat. Yet it barely holds my hunger in check. What a surprise. I make a note to myself to actually get off my ass and buy some groceries, then I walk to the washroom. I step into the shower, and warm water cascades all over me. I stay inside for ten minutes, then I step out. I choose my clothes for the day. Bright red silk shirt, Black silk pants and Black Timberland boots. All underneath a long Black hooded overcoat with the logo Bench on it. I grab my book bag, and walk to the bus stop down Donald Street. I'm catching the number eighteen OC Transpo Bus to Hurdman Station, and from there I'll take the number four to Carleton University. I've got a psych quiz that I so didn't prepare for but whatever.

I walk through campus, making my way toward the University Center. I need a new picture ID taken. It's going to cost me but I've got no choice. I lost my ID, along with everything else I had on me the last time I died. All week I've been going to various institutions to restore what I call the essentials. The Royal Bank of Canada is sending me a new debit card and a new credit card. Service Canada is sending me a new health card. Since I never bothered getting a driver's licence, I'm basically okay. The motor vehicles department asks way too many questions when you lose your licence by accident, according to what I hear people say. I don't need the hassle. I fork over twenty bucks to pay for the Carleton University Student ID card. I look at the picture. It's the same one I took two years ago, before the Curse. The guy at the office is trying to get my attention. Mr. Anderson Pierrot, he says, have a pleasant day. I realize that I've been staring at my own picture ID without budging after picking it up. People behind me are anxious to take care of their business and I need to move on. I smile coldly and walk away. Sometimes I have these zone-outs. They've been happening a lot lately. Can't be helped.

I put the ID in my wallet and walk briskly to class. It's not exactly sunny today but the sun always pains me. I don't know why. So I always use the extensive tunnel system which connects all the various buildings of the school in a vast underground network. Hundreds of students use these tunnels every day. It's like the subway, but on foot. Everybody uses it on campus. A Somali gal wearing a hijab giggles and shares a quick kiss on the lips with a Hindu gal dressed in shiny Black leather. A tall White chick bumps into me, and I shoot her a dark look. I don't like being bumped into. She didn't notice me because a dreadlocked Black guy was nuzzling on her ear. And a plump, spiky-haired Asian chick bumped into a towering White guy whom she was walking with because she was too busy looking at the couple whose female half bumped into me. I'm suddenly really glad we're all walking and not driving. Ah, the foolishness of everyday humanity. These are my fellow students, my so-called peers. My definition of normal. Eat your heart out.

I sit through my psychology class, and it goes by surprisingly fast. The professor is a short-haired lady with a Spanish accent. The kind of instructor who drones and on but what can you expect? It's a lecture class. I grin and bear it, and exit exactly sixty six minutes after I sat down. I suddenly realize there are worse things than being half dead, and sitting through this torture hall ( oops, I meant lecture hall ) is one of them. I sometimes wonder what I was doing when my life went to hell. I try not to think about the Thing, but it often creeps up into my consciousness. Can't be avoided. It could be argued that I brought this on myself. I don't believe that. While I certainly had a hand in the events that led to turn me into...this, I certainly didn't choose. Maybe we chose each other, who knows?

Two years ago I had life on a string. I was living in Boston, Massachusetts, with my parents, Louisa and Toussaint Pierrot. My folks are immigrants from the Caribbean island of Haiti, but I was born in America. Dad is a police officer and mom is a librarian. Nice people. Sometimes I wondered how such innocuous people produced someone like me. Anyway, I was studying Criminal Justice at Bay State College, a quaint little party school located in downtown Boston. I had way too much during my first year and ended up in a wee bit of trouble. It involved a frat party, a lot of liquor, a big-booty chick named Stacey and some Irish cops with no sense of humor. I don't think the situation was that bad, but my parents freaked out. They sent me to my uncle and aunt's spot in Ottawa, Ontario, the most boring place in the universe, supposedly to straighten me out. Thus I transferred from my beloved Bay State College in Boston to Ottawa's very own Carleton University. My parents sent me to stay with my uncle Sylvestre Alexandre, my mother's older brother, and his Irish-born wife Diane O'Leary. I was not a happy camper. I had trouble adjusting to life in boring little Ottawa after living in lively Boston my whole life. Luckily, my cousin Sean was quite the party guy and he showed me a good time in Toronto.

Man, as an American living in Canada, I feel that Toronto should be the Canadian capital but the Canadians disagree. Sean and I hit all the cool clubs, and met all kinds of hot ladies. They got all the flavors of womankind in Toronto. Black women. White women. Asian women. Hispanic women. Arab women. And I wanted to sample them all. Too bad Sean hooked me up with Atiyah Abdul-Ghafur. A six-foot-tall, raven-haired, bronze-skinned and absolutely statuesque young woman from the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia. I was mesmerized by this Arabian beauty. The Muslim women I encountered in Canada were usually quiet, conservatively dressed and soft-spoken. I never really paid much attention to them because I figured they were deeply conservative and followed the rules of their religion to a T. I had certainly never heard of an Arab woman who liked Black guys and didn't hide it. Well, Atiyah was into the brothers and made no bones about it. This chick liked to get her party on, she drank a lot, and she danced like a grade-A stripper. She was a far cry from the hijab-wearing, quiet Muslim ladies I ran into all the time in Ottawa. How could I say no to her?

Atiyah and I had our fun together. This chick was freaky, man. How many chicks do you know would follow you into the men's washroom and suck your dick in the frigging stall? Yeah, Atiyah was that kind of wild woman. And she could suck a mean dick. The fact that my eight-inch, Haitian-American rod was uncircumcised didn't seem to bother her. I hit that ass for the first time in the club washroom, just bent her over and stuffed her like a thanksgiving turkey. I made her scream and squeal, and we both loved every minute of it. Atiyah led me into a wild world my first summer in Toronto, man. She slipped me this pill one night and told me it was unlike anything I'd ever tried before. I took it, and it was everything she said and more. The first time I tried it...I swear it slowed down my heart, yet made me feel more alive than ever before. I had to have more of it. I begged Atiyah for more, and eventually she introduced me to her dealer, a chubby White dude named Hank. As it turns out, Hank wasn't the source of the drug. He used to work as a security guard for this lab in the outskirts of Toronto and he stole a handful of their pills, which he sold himself.

Atiyah and I bought a handful of the pills, which supercharged us like nothing else could. We needed more of it. I came up with the brilliant plan of breaking into Rex Hawthorne Laboratories. Hank had given us a detailed map of the place, and where he found the drugs before he got fired. We went in...and managed to make it to the storage area where the pills were kept. For a high-tech laboratory doing research into God knows what, they certainly had lousy security. Well, I soon found out why. We got captured by a team of hulking men and women in security uniforms. And guess who was among them? That pimple-faced asshole, Hank. The dude had sold us out! As Atiyah and I looked on, amazed, Hank stood next to a tall White guy in a lab coat. His name tag read Dr. Hurst. Well, Dr. Hurst thanked Hank for providing him with new test subjects, and handed him a huge stack of bills. Hank pocketed them, and left. As for Atiyah and I, in spite of our vehement protests, we were thrown into cages. And experimented upon. People in those bio-hazard type of suits you see in the movies came and poked and prodded us. They also cut us open. We weren't the only ones they did this to. There were dozens of other men and women being experimented upon. Most of them were between the ages of eighteen and thirty. Young, healthy-looking men and women. They were Black, White, Indian, Chinese, Arab and everything else I could think of.

I didn't travel all the way to Canada to become a lab rat. I'm nobody's bitch, I told myself. I swore I'd escape. One of the security guards who regularly came to feed us prisoners was kind of gay and seemed sweet on me. I lured him with the promise of a taste of the Black hunk that I am, and he fell for it. I knocked him out, took his keys and began freeing my fellow prisoners. I didn't find Atiyah in her cell and I swore I wouldn't leave without her. While the other prisoners rioted against the security guards, I looked for Atiyah. I used the guard's access card to move about the laboratories as I looked for her. I soon found her...and wished I hadn't. Atiyah had somehow managed to free herself. And she knelt over the corpse of Dr. Hurst, upon him she feasted. I approached her cautiously, not believing my eyes. Atiyah looked at me...and in that moment my world changed. Her eyes had gone blank and her skin, once a magnificent shade of burnished bronze, had gone ashen and gray. Oh, and she sported a mouthful of curving fangs. With a roar, she came at me. I ran. As I ran from the monstrosity that my beloved girlfriend had become, I bumped into a security guard. She was running from a trio of prisoners who had undergone the same transformation as Atiyah. As I watched helplessly, they cornered her and slaughtered her. And then they feasted. Atiyah joined them.

Terrified beyond all endurance, I fled for my life. All across the laboratory, chaos reigned. The security guards and scientists were fighting a losing battle against whatever the prisoners had turned into. I ran smack into a pack of the creatures, and a security guard actually saved my life. A tall, short-haired Black woman who introduced herself as Taniesha and asked me to follow her. Man, I had no love for the guards and told her to go to hell. Taniesha glared at me and told me that with the lab being overrun by the creatures, she was my best chance to get out alive. With that, she handed me a machete. I took it, and we began fighting our way through the creatures. Most of them wore the filthy red jumpsuits that all prisoners/test subjects wore, but some of them wore lab coats and security guard uniforms. This was a nightmare. Like something from the movies, man. I asked Taniesha what the creatures were, and she told me they were Zombies. I almost laughed, then realized that they fit everything I knew about Zombies. Taniesha shot a short Asian female Zombie in the head and the creature dropped dead. Yeah, just like in the movies. A head shot always kills a Zombie. Taniesha told me that the brain was a Zombie's only vulnerable spot. I nodded, and chopped off the head of a blonde-haired White female Zombie in a lab coat. I yelled like Shaka Zulu and kicked the head away. Taniesha shot me a look. I grinned, and told her that I really didn't like scientists. Damn nerds.

Slowly but surely, we made our way toward the upper levels. I was all set for escaping but Taniesha told me that we couldn't let the Zombies escape into the outside world. I wasn't about to stick around to fight these things. No way. Let the RCMP and the Toronto Police Service deal with these freaks. Call the Canadian Armed Forces or something. In the movies, whenever the Black man tries to be a hero, he ends up dead. Will Smith in the flick "I Am Legend". Denzel Washington in "The Book of Eli". Yeah, I'm not trying to end up like them. Besides, what could a party guy turned science experiment and a security guard do against an army of Zombies? That's what I asked Taniesha. She told me she was a Constable with the Toronto Police Service, and she'd been investigating Rex Hawthorne Laboratories for ages. There had been a rash of disappearances in the Greater Toronto Area and the police wanted to know why. Taniesha assured me that she'd called for reinforcements. Wow. I took another look at Taniesha. The gal was tall and fit, built like a Black amazon or something. And she had a nice ass too. She flashed me a cold grin and told me not to get any ideas. I smiled weakly, and groaned inwardly as she assured me that she was a lesbian. I grinned and asked her if she was butch or femme. She refused to answer me but laughed and playfully punched me on the shoulder. I nodded, then took a swing at her with the machete. As Taniesha gaped in shock at my apparent betrayal, I promptly decapitated a skinny male Zombie in a janitor's outfit who had snuck up behind her. Taniesha sighed in relief. I grinned, and we kept running.

As we ran through the upper levels of the labs, we ran into Zombie after Zombie. It seemed we were the only humans left. We were close to the same exit I remembered sneaking into with Atiyah...when suddenly I saw...her. Atiyah. Standing alone between the exit and us. She had the same blank stare that all the Zombies we'd killed had. Taniesha aimed at Atiyah with her gun...and cursed, saying that she was out of bullets. Atiyah sprang at her...and I leapt between them. My Undead ex-girlfriend and I wrestled fiercely on the floor. That's how I lost my machete. Taniesha shouted a warning, telling me not to get bitten. Well, thanks for the suggestion, lady. I struggled against Atiyah while trying to avoid her fangs and claws. I threw all six-foot-two and two hundred and fifty pounds of me against her. Amazingly, Atiyah seemed stronger than me in her Undead state. And she spat blood in my face. Cold, semi-coagulated blood. She was about to take a chunk out of me when Taniesha cleaved her skull in two with the machete. Taniesha stood there, and asked me if I was alright. I nodded. She offered me a hand up, and I took it. That's when the Toronto Police Service showed up.

I wish I could say that all was well that ended well. The Toronto Police Service didn't rescue Taniesha and I. They took us into custody. Apparently we both knew too much. The Canadian government knew fully well what the good folks at Rex Hawthorne Laboratories were up to. And they were in cahoots with the American government. Apparently, there were divisions of Rex Hawthorne Laboratories all over America, Australia, New Zealand, Canada and Europe. I ended up shackle d in an interrogation room. When I asked the interrogator what was the big idea about creating Zombies, the blonde-haired and blue-eyed young White woman in the crisp silver business suit smiled. She introduced herself as Agent Elle. Well, Elle told me they were going to drop the Zombies upon specific spots in the Middle East and certain African countries. According to her, the Zombies had a shelf life of only a couple of years but they could infect an entire continent in months if left unchecked.

I shook my head as she told me this. So, this was the Powers That Be and their updated version of the Final Solution. Hitler would be proud. America, Canada, Australia and New Zealand united with the European Union to get rid of undesirables ( anyone who isn't European ) worldwide with a neat little virus. I asked Agent Elle where my friend Taniesha was. Imagine my surprise when Taniesha walked into the room, clad in a crisp business suit. She smiled at Agent Elle and gave her a quick kiss on the lips. I stared daggers at Taniesha. Wow. I guess this sister sold out her own. Taniesha looked at me and grinned. Taniesha said that she wanted to be on the winning side since World War Three was losing. America, Australia, Canada, New Zealand and Europe were frightened of the threat posed by growing numbers of Muslims from the Middle East and Africa as well as Asians and Hispanics. They were going to wipe out the Arabs, the Chinese, the East Indians and the Africans. Just drop Zombies on these hugely populated countries, and block all attempts by these targeted populations to enter Europe or its allies. After a few years, all the undesirables and the Zombies they had become would be dead, and the world would belong to White people. Just like Hitler himself intended. I glared murderously at Taniesha and told her that she would be a slave in that world. Taniesha coldly told me that she'd rather be an ally, than to end up dead.

I shook my head. My Haitian grandfather always told me that colonialism worked in Black countries because the Blacks were always eager to sell out their own. I guess the old man was right. Taniesha had sold me out, along with every other non-White person on this planet. Now I knew why the prisoners in the laboratories were all minorities and the lab techs and scientists were all White. Wow. How could I have missed it? Taniesha stood there, with her arms around Agent Elle. I felt a rage unlike anything I'd ever felt before coursing through my veins. Pure power and anger flooded my body. With a strength I never before knew I had, I snapped my shackles. I fell upon Agent Elle and Taniesha...and all I will say on the matter is that it was a grisly scene. I didn't leave much of them left. Certainly not enough to get up and walk around as Zombies. Agents surged into the room with automated weapons. They pumped enough bullets into me to kill a whole herd of elephants. I waded through them, filled with a dark fury that was beyond anything human. I made sure to separate each victim's head from his or her shoulder. I didn't want them to become Zombies. I wanted them to stay dead. Thus, I fought my way through the laboratories. I escaped, and this time, I stayed free. You see, I had to literally go through a furnace to escape. Well, an incinerator anyway. It burned me...and I died.

Amazingly, I regenerated from my ashy, bloody remains a short while later. The good folks of Rex Hawthorne I returned to my uncle and aunt's place in the City of Ottawa, Ontario. It had been a month since they last heard of me. Amazingly, the Canadian government cronies had no idea who I was or where I came from. And since they thought I was dead, they didn't come looking for me. I tried to lead a normal life. I really did. However, I'm not normal. Hell, I'm not even human anymore. I look human, though. The virus changed me. I'm just as Undead as the Zombies from the laboratory. I have no heartbeat. I don't need to breathe anymore. My body is always at room temperature. Yep, I'm a dead man walking. I don't have fangs and claws, the blank eyes or the ashy gray skin, though. However, I lost my ability to blink. I still piss and shit, though. I need to consume large quantities of raw meat to keep my body, well, functioning. I buy a lot of meat these days. A lot. I have to keep my hunger under control. The last time I lost control, I roamed the woods outside Ottawa and slaughtered more deer than that gigantic Python which was on yahoo news when it swallowed that deer whole in the State of Florida. The attacks were blamed on coyotes which had been known to come dangerously close to the town. It was all me, really.